


Not TSA Approved

by orphan_account



Series: Rolin Trash [1]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Flirting, Humor, M/M, Romance?, TSA???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-24 15:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3774391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross makes a new “friend” in the security line at the airport, entirely against his own will.  ~A Rolin (Ross/Colin [the journalist]) AU</p><p>(Confused? <a href="https://youtu.be/KUz76hbM-Ps?list=PLW1Yb5N9dD8ebaZYSdzI9O9boWKnmw2eS&t=554">First appearance</a>, <a href="https://youtu.be/Tng93TFhQp4?t=461">second appearance</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not TSA Approved

“Your name’s Rooooossss?”

The voice was somehow liquid smooth and migraine inducing at the same time. Ross looked behind his shoulder, not willing to shift in the airport security line.

“What?” he asked, confusion lacing his tone.

The man behind him wasn’t particularly tall, but he still commanded quite the presence - neon green glasses perched on his nose, loose-fitting tank top hot, hot pink. His brown eyes were narrowed in mirth, or perhaps even something that could be called _coyness_.

“That’s such a great name, Rrrrroooooosssss.”

“...Okay?” Ross turned back to face the front, resolving to stay focused, facing forward. Don’t humor him. He had a feeling this man was the kind of person who, when given an inch, took a mile.

“So tell me, Roooooss, what’s the _neeeews_? Where’re you headed? Going on a _vacaaaation_ , Rrrrrooooss? How do you like to relax after a long, _hard_ day of work?”

Ross felt sure that they were beginning to attract attention. The teenaged girl in front of him had already turned around and given him a skeptical look. Ross flushed what he was sure was bright pink, wishing he’d brought something like a hoodie, so he could bury himself in it. Or perhaps a parka. Or perhaps he should’ve just covered himself in five blankets, obscuring all of his features.

He wasn’t sure he’d feel comfortable even then.

“You know I unwind? I run a nice, _hot_ bath and I like to fill up on some delicious _cock_...tails. Of course not without my baaaaath bomb from Luuuuush. I love _aaall_ of their bath bombs, you know. I’ve never been disappointed even once. They’re so … _pleasurable_.”

Ross honestly was beginning to wish he’d died on the way to the airport.

“I even brought a few with me on my vacation, _Rrroooooss_ , never go _aaaanywhere_ without my bath bombs. I’ve got six in my bag right there.”

Ross’ skin was crawling. Psychosomatic response to this absolute _twat_.

“I made one of them myself, Rrross, I made the one with the jizzles myself, you know. You can find tutorials on making bath bombs _everywhere_.”

“Sir.” The new voice was deeper than the man whose voice had been assaulting Ross. And far more no-nonsense. “You’re going to have to come with me.”

“What? Why? Rrroooss, help!”

A heavy hand landed on Ross’ shoulder, and he spun around to find himself face-to-face with an irate member of the TSA. “Sir, is your name Ross?”

“Uh-” Ross said, watching as the other man was all but dragged away by another member of the TSA, even as his arms stretched out toward Ross.

“Saaaave meeee, Roooooss,” the twat wailed.

“No.” The TSA agent raised an eyebrow. “Uh, I mean _yes_ , my name’s Ross, but I _don’t_ know that man.”

“Save it for the interview,” the TSA agent said, and the hand on Ross’ shoulder exerted pressure, guiding him in the direction that the bizarre man had disappeared. “We heard him calling your name from the offices.”

“Er-”

“And you’ll just have to explain to them why he was so pleased to tell you about his bombs.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Ross said. “He was talking about _bath_ bombs.”

“It doesn’t matter what kind of bombs he was talking about. None of them are TSA approved.”

They shuffled Ross into a small and mostly empty room, the only occupants a table, two chairs, and the other man with his hands cuffed, sitting in one of the chairs.

“Ohhh Rrroooss! You _did_ come for me!”

“Ah- no- I didn’t-”

“Take a seat in here. Someone’ll be with you shortly.”

Ross stayed standing, watching the man who had gotten him into this mess warily.

The man pouted. “Ross, are you gonna join me over here? You can sit on this chair, you know, because the interviewer is going to need the other one. You can sit on my lap.”

“Who _are_ you?” Ross said suddenly, voice cracking just slightly. “Why the fuck are you doing this?”

“Oh!” the man said, blinking his eyes owlishly behind his glasses, which were now slightly knocked askew. “I didn’t tell you? My name’s Colin, Rrrroooooss. Colin, the journalist.”

Ross sucked in a deep breath. “Colin, from the bottom of my heart, _fuck you_.”

“Oh, Roooss, you _minx_! Don’t tease me!” Colin said, attempting to blow a kiss. The handcuffs seemed to make that difficult.

“Fuck,” Ross said, and virtually collapsed back against the wall. He was never flying alone, ever again.


End file.
